


Captivated

by Eliza



Series: Almost Love: A Prelude [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 02:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: Otabek and Yuri’s second date (almost): the Barcelona Grand Prix banquet





	Captivated

The banquet after the Grand Prix final was different this year. Yuri had been a gold medal winner last year, too, but certainly hadn't received this kind of attention as a Junior. The most annoying part was this year there were people he actually wanted to talk to.

Person.

And yet, it wasn't too bad. Otabek always seemed to be within sight, so Yuri could make a face and make him smile. Or he'd come by and whisper pieces of gossip in Yuri's ear before the next important person demanded Yuri's attention. He also kept bringing Yuri food and made sure his glass was full. It was Chris who took pity on Yuri and traded one of those glasses of sparkly juice for actual champagne.

Now that the music was going, the pressure had eased off. Yuri took the first opening he could find, grabbed Otabek and sat them both at a table. They looked at each other and laughed, both recognising the signs of being temporarily talked out. Yuri's phone chimed. As he took it out, he looked at Otabek who motioned for him to answer it.

“Mila shouldn't drink anymore. She's whining about how Canadians are thieves.” Like Otabek, she'd come in fourth behind a Canadian skater. Although in Yuri’s opinion, it was Gen who had been robbed of the silver.

He was surprised to find Otabek frowning. “What the hell?” Otabek said under his breath. Before Yuri could ask, Otabek pulled out his own phone as it vibrated.

“You're getting messages from her, too?”

“She doesn't have my number,” Otabek said. “I don't think.” The phone vibrated again as he was opening the app, and he smirked when the screen came up. “Not her.”

“Your friend?” Yuri winced. He could have said that nicer.

Otabek replied, “Uh huh,” as he typed a few characters. Whatever the reply was made him smile, then sigh. He sent another short message, which was answered immediately, and he put his phone away. “Can you go find Mila? I need to talk to the DJ.”

“What? Why?” Damn it, they'd just sat down. Together.

“We've been given a cheer-up-Mila mission,” Otabek said, smiling as he got to his feet.

“Fuck that!”

He was pretty sure it wasn't the language that produced Otabek's reaction. Yuri swore _at_ him a few days before and got a very favourable response. Otabek placed his hands on the arms of Yuri’s chair, forcing Yuri to lift his chin to keep eye contact. “You've got a gold medal. It wouldn’t hurt to occasionally indulge those of us who don't share the podium with you.”

If he thought a guilt trip was going to work on Yuri Plisetsky--. Although…. “Indulge, how exactly?” Yuri said, hoping he’d managed sultry.

Otabek seemed to take that in exactly the way Yuri intended. He drew Yuri to his feet, pulling them close with his hand on the small of Yuri's back; he leaned in and said quietly, “For now...find Mila.” He stepped back with a smirk and a promise in his eyes. “And bring her to the edge of the dance floor.”

Tease. Yuri needed to give himself a moment or two before wading into the crowd. He was usually kept at arm’s length by everyone--except Victor, who clung like a leech—so Otabek’s willingness to treat him the way he’d seen the other skaters treat each other was…something to get used to.

The flock of other girls surrounding Mila was easy to spot. She was very pathetic; when he stood in front of her, she looked up at him with big, sad eyes and a ridiculous pout. Yuri couldn't find it in himself to be more than irritated. He grabbed her hand and said, “Come on, baba. You're getting cheered up.”

When they reached the edge of the crowd, Yuri saw Otabek talking to the DJ. The DJ was nodding and smiling while they discussed whatever they were looking at on the computer screen. Otabek was obviously being friendly, but his expression was closed. Yuri had become used to being able to read Otabek’s mind by the look in his eyes, the quirk of his lips, but Yuri suddenly realized that this was not a common occurrence. Otabek finished his business with a sharp nod and a clap on the DJ’s shoulder, but still nothing like a smile.

Otabek came over and held out his hand to Mila, “I hear you know how to waltz.” He looked agreeable but there was no smile for Mila either. A new song started: something familiar from a couple of years ago, but nothing Yuri could name. Mila looked at the offered hand with obvious suspicion, but then took it with a smile. Otabek turned her in an underarm spin. “You have the dress for it.”

“I hope you have better moves than that, Altin, if you're going to skate with me,” Mila said, teasingly.

Oh God. Yuri wanted to sink through the floor. He tried really hard to make it happen, staring where the carpet met the hardwood until someone nudged his arm. Otabek didn't say anything about the familiar phrase, just handed Yuri his phone, laughter in his eyes, then led Mila onto the dance floor.

They looked good together, Mila only a little bit taller in her heels. Otabek obviously knew what he was doing, starting them with what looked like simple steps, then lengthening their strides and adding turns, like picking up speed on the ice. There needed to be a picture. Yuri glanced at the phone in his hand--the message window was open.

There were a number of obviously attention-seeking messages from “L in C” and then Otabek's reply: _what_.

 _Mila knows how to waltz. Go be a hero and cheer her up_.

Otabek sent: _UGH!_ The answer was a toothy grin and a kiss.

Otabek obviously meant for him to see this. But.... Yuri scrolled up a little. There were messages from the night they went for their ride. _Smitten?_ Otabek answered: _Always and not yet_. Again answered with a kiss.

Then Otabek sent one from later that night when they all went back to their rooms: _I'm in so much trouble. Call me._

Then from L in C after the short program: _If that's what a coffee date does to you then you'd better kiss him before the free skate. CALL ME!_

They didn't. They haven't. He would have, if asked. Probably. He certainly would have a few minutes ago when Otabek pulled him close. And Otabek looked like he wanted to. Probably. Why didn't he?

The hens were clucking about something. Otabek and Mila had shifted their arm positions so that she was holding some of her skirt and he had one behind his back. It obviously meant something to people who knew about waltzes, but that wasn't Yuri. Still, Otabek was doing his job. Mila had a wide smile and Otabek was poised and confident and in total control. It was as sexy as hell.

Yuri took a picture, making sure to get Mila's smile, and sent it with the message: _It worked – YP._

_HE GAVE YOU HIS PHONE?!!!!_

Yuri frowned at the all caps and sent: _Obviously._

The typing indicator appeared and disappeared a few times but all that came in was: _holy shit._

Maybe the lack of kisses wasn't as important as he thought.

The song finished and Otabek bowed to Mila, kissing her hand, and the hens sounded like they were laying eggs on the edge of the dance floor. Mila held onto his hand when he would have moved away, and said something to him. His reply made her laugh and she pulled him into a hug. Otabek might have cracked a smile then, but when he hugged her back, his hands were in the middle of her back, nowhere near where he had put his hands on Yuri. Good.

Otabek came back looking a little embarrassed; it was a good look on him, Yuri had to admit. As he handed Otabek his phone, Yuri nodded toward the female skaters now clustered around Mila again. “You're in so much trouble.” He could see the moment Otabek realized where that phrase had come from, confirmed when he glanced at his phone.

“How much did you read?” Otabek asked.

“Just a couple of days.”

“I wouldn't have minded if you'd looked at more. But sometimes Lauren requires an explanation.”

Lauren, who knew Mila therefore probably skates--Yuri could work with that. “I sent her a picture,” Yuri said to make sure Otabek saw the exchange.

Yuri wasn’t sure what he was expecting in Otabek’s reaction, but when Otabek looked up, what Yuri got was an openness and heat he hadn’t seen before. Like all things Otabek, it was intense; Yuri couldn’t hold his gaze. His heart was pounding and he had to work to take a breath and… he loved this feeling. It was like taking off for a jump, a combination of fear and certainty. When he looked back, Otabek had opened the picture.

“Very nice!” Otabek said, glancing up from the phone with his usual warmth. “You're good at this. Should we send it to Mila?”

“I'm sure there are lots of pictures and video out there. You probably don't have to worry about it going public, but skaters will see it.”

“I'm not worried either way.” Then Otabek turned very serious. “My fly wasn't down or anything?”

“No, you were gorgeous.” Yuri’s cheeks went from warm to burning. Fuck his fair skin.

When he could bring himself to look up again, he saw that Otabek was watching him from the corner of his eye while pretending to be doing something with his phone. Otabek put the phone away while he took a deep breath, then said, “I think we've put on enough of a show for tonight. Want to find someplace quieter?”

“Yeah. Let's go.”

There was the smile. The slow unfurling for Yuri alone, not for public consumption. There was also a grin which Yuri had only spotted a couple of times and wanted to see much more often. What else about Otabek could he call his? He wanted there to be a list. A long list.

They had just entered the hallway when Otabek sent him a sidelong look accompanied by the smallest of smirks. “Are you going to be stealing _my_ lines on a regular basis, too?”

“Oh, fuck you, Altin.” And that gorgeous grin.


End file.
